The Dark Highlander

Her smiled deepened and her eyes sparkled. As she slipped from the window seat, she warned him, “I might squish you.”

He snorted. “I doona think there’s any danger of that, lass.” At but a few inches over five feet, even heavily pregnant, his wife would ne’er be aught but a wee lass in his mind. He pulled her onto his lap and clasped his hands around her, holding her close.

The day was overcast, rainy and chill, a perfect day for a cozy peat fire, and in time, lulled by the combination of the woman in his arms and the comforts of home, he relaxed. He was nearly dozing when Dageus and Chloe finally finished eating and joined them.

Gwen rose from his lap and greetings and hugs were exchanged.

“Silvan and Nell said to give you their love,” Chloe told them.

Drustan grinned, noting that Chloe’s hair was still slightly damp from her shower. So was his brother’s. ’Twas no wonder they’d not come down. Keltar men had a decided penchant for making love in the shower or bath. Indoor plumbing was one of the many luxuries of the twenty-first century that he wasn’t sure how he’d lived without. A shower? Delicious. Sex in the shower? Och, life didn’t get any better.

Gwen beamed. “Didn’t you just love Silvan and Nell? I was so envious that I couldn’t go along and see them again.”

“Nell gave me a letter for you, Gwen,” Chloe said. “It’s upstairs. Do you want me to get it now?”

Gwen shook her head. “Drustan might die of impatience if I let you leave the room. We have news—”

“But first,” Drustan interjected firmly, “let’s hear yours.” He studied Dageus carefully. Though his eyes were the color of deeply burnished copper, the outer edges of his irises rimmed with black, there was a sense of peace about him that hadn’t been there before. Och, aye, Drustan thought, love could indeed work miracles. He had no idea how long they’d spent in the past, but it was long enough that they’d fallen head over heels in love. Long enough that they were united as one against the uncertain future.

While Dageus filled them in on what they’d discovered, he listened patiently. When Dageus told him of the chamber library beneath the study in Maggie and Christopher’s castle, he had to grip the arms of his chair to prevent himself from leaping up and racing off to explore it. To touch and read the legendary Compact, to rediscover their lost history.

Finally, it was his turn to tell the news.

“These members of the Druid sect of the Draghar you spoke of,” Drustan began.

“Aye?” Dageus encouraged when he paused.

“We have one of them in our dungeon.”

Dageus shot to his feet. “How did this come about? Have you questioned him? What did he tell you?” he demanded.

“Easy, brother. He told me all. The base of their Order’s operation is in London, in a place called The Belthew Building, on the lower West Side. ’Twas he and his companion that were after Chloe in Manhattan. ’Twas his companion who leaped from your terrace. He followed you here, hoping to get another chance at Chloe. They were trying to provoke you to use magic and force the transformation.”

“I’ll kill the son of a bitch!” Dageus snarled and began to move toward the door of the library.

“Sit,” Chloe said, dashing after him and tugging firmly at his sleeve. “Let’s hear the rest of it. You can kill him later.”

Bristling with unbridled fury, Dageus refused to move for a moment, then he snorted and followed her back to the sofa. You can kill him later, she’d said, almost absently. When he sank back down on the sofa beside her, she snuggled into his arms and patted him like one might soothe a rabid wolf. He shook his head, nonplussed. Sometimes, he mused, it might be nice if she were a wee bit intimidated by him.

But not his mate: She feared nothing.

“He admitted”—Drustan smiled with grim satisfaction—“under a bit of duress—”

“Good,” Dageus snapped. “I hope ’twas excruciating.”

“—that the building is constructed atop a labyrinth of catacombs, and in those crypts is where all their records are kept. So far as he knows, the building is commonly occupied by no more than three or four men, and at night, ’tis most oft but two, deep in the heart of it. The building has a security system, yet I believe ’tis naught to present a challenge to someone with your unique skills, brother,” he added dryly. “There are complex passkeys, and much to his dismay, he described to me precisely what we must do to pass them. To the best of his knowledge, they still believe you have no idea they exist, and that you do not know of the Prophecy.”